


Verisimilitude

by sharkduck



Series: Superposition Incognito [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Asphyxiation, Choking, Explicit Sexual Content, Historical Accuracy, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, M/M, Spanish Civil War, Vague mentions of homophobia but it's the 1930s so what do you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9476561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkduck/pseuds/sharkduck
Summary: Verisimilitudever·i·si·mil·i·tude| nounThe appearance of being true or real.





	

"You need to shave," Ivan says, and Antonio finds himself wishing he'd never agreed to this arrangement.

Ivan simply smiles that coy, plastic smile and reaches up to brush his fingers along the contour of Antonio's jaw, before his hand is abruptly smacked away and Antonio glares at him, only succeeding in making the smile grow. He wants to slap it off his face, tell him that they have no time to be making small talk when there's a war to fight, but Toni knows that it won't get him anything besides a lazy tilt of the head that almost certainly exposes the pale, scarred expanse of his neck on purpose, and another smile. He's content with simply sighing through his nose instead. Let him have his way, the petulant bastard.

"I could always do it for you." Antonio actually snorts, rolls his eyes.

"Like I'd let you anywhere near my neck with a razor."

"Oh, come on, it's not like I'd open your throat with it. I'm actually quite fond of you, you know."

The fact that Ivan has openly admitted to the sneaking suspicion lingering in the back of Antonio's mind, and so casually, is enough to make him stop and narrow his eyes. Ivan's smile gets a little livelier, transforming into a faint semblance of a smirk.

"Silence implies consent," and Ivan is taking him by the hand, dragging him despite his protests to his bathroom.

The room is a mess. Antonio's living conditions had slowly been on a downward spiral; a far cry from the opulence and luxury of his former days, his new apartment was dingy, the wallpaper peeling, dust on the windows, and no light besides the flickering kerosene lamp cutting through the musty dark of his one-room home. (Antonio is briefly taken back to a time when he thought orange and black were beautiful, and his heart aches) If his apartment was terrible, his bathroom was worse. At some point, Antonio had smashed his fist against his mirror and tried (and failed horribly) to fix it with a Jerry-rigged mixture of glue and tape, with some pieces still missing. It was painfully obvious that the place hadn't been cleaned in a while, dirt settling in the cracks between the tiles and on the walls, the grime somehow managing to make everything more depressing. Ivan clicks his tongue as he turns on the single, naked light bulb.

"You should clean up; it can't be healthy living like this, yes?" Antonio simply glares, and keeps glaring as Ivan pulls a stool from the other room, sits him down in front of the sink, and mixes the shaving cream. He's still glaring when Ivan thinks it would be funny to place a small dollop of cream on his nose and giggle about it.

"Just do it," he snaps, and Ivan's pout is extremely satisfying. It gets less satisfying when he feels cool, clean metal against his face, Ivan's other hand placed on his shoulder. Antonio has to wonder where he even got it from.

"Do you always carry a razor in your coat?" Ivan giggles.

"No, but I noticed you were growing some stubble and picked one up at the barber's."

"You planned this?" Antonio's tone is somewhere between accusatory and shocked, and Ivan seems offended as he starts scraping the edge of the razor against the skin of his cheek.

"Again, no. Why does everyone think I'm some kind of scheming loon?"

"Because you _are_ a scheming loon."

"Wherever did you get that idea?"

Antonio doesn't have time to answer before the razor moves down to his jaw and he has to stop talking, or Ivan might cut him. The thought crosses his mind that Ivan might have done it on purpose. It seems as though Ivan does everything on purpose, sometimes. Within minutes, Ivan is wiping the last of the shaving cream off, and Antonio glances in the mirror. Even with a clean shave, he still looks like shit. Ivan hums.

"Well look at that," he says, and brushes the pad of his thumb against Antonio's cheek, "you're actually quite handsome under all that unsightly scruff."

"When you say it like that, I can almost convince myself that you might actually want to sleep with me."

"Who says I don't want to sleep with you?"

Antonio nearly chokes, staring at Ivan for a hot second before he's out of his chair, grabbing Ivan by the face, hand covering his mouth; he has the taller man pinned against the sink, nearly bending over backwards.

"Don't talk so loudly," Toni hisses, glancing at the door, "if someone hears you--" He doesn't finish; he doesn't have to. Ivan's eyes are wide as dinner plates, out of shock and a minute trace of fear that disappears quickly as his brows furrow and he slaps Antonio's hand away. Possibly for the first time since they've met, Antonio sees Ivan frown.

"What can they do to us that hasn't been done already?"

"I can think of a few things."

"Whatever they cut off," Ivan's grin splits his face, "will undoubtedly grow back. Probably." Antonio groans in frustration.

"That doesn't make it any less painful!" Ivan snickers, and Toni places both his hands on the sink beside Ivan's hips. Maybe... Maybe it wouldn't be so bad; to just let go, forget about the world for a few precious minutes, lose himself in someone else. And Ivan _is_ attractive, in a strange -- almost feminine -- way, full lips and long lashes on a soft face. Antonio grunts.

"Fine."

"Fine what?" Antonio stares at him, deadpan, and receives a coy bat of the eyelashes. He grits his teeth.

"Listen," he says slowly, so that hopefully Ivan will get it through his thick, stubborn skull, "if you're going to play games, then I can always go find someone else to spend the night with." Ivan's face is priceless, but Antonio leans forward to wipe it away with a hard, unromantic kiss, wrapping Ivan's tie around his hand to keep him in place. Not that he'd move in the first place, since Ivan is eager to return whatever Toni gives him with full force. Soon, they've shed their clothes and managed to find their way to the blanket-less mattress in between feeling each other up and fighting for dominance, a battle that Ivan almost surely deliberately loses. Who knew that Russia was a power bottom?

Ivan's scars are almost beautiful in the fading light, the way the jagged and white skin gleams with sweat. Antonio scrapes his teeth against a particular one, just above his collar bone, and Ivan hisses, clutches at the dark, unwashed hair at the base of his neck.

" _Stop teasing,_ " he whines, petulant, and Antonio wants to keep going, keep him begging. But he complies and continues further down, trailing hot kisses and love bites across his skin and down to his hips. He's already half-hard by the time Antonio wraps his hand around him and strokes, eliciting a sweet, quiet gasp, and it feels fantastic having someone normally so imposing beneath him. In the low glow of the kerosene lamp, Antonio can admire the supple shape of his thighs -- soft, milky white, almost womanly in a way. Wide hips tapering into a pudgy stomach. Ivan giggles -- it sounds almost uncomfortable, and Antonio begins to think that Ivan might be _bashful_ , of all things, which is ridiculous considering the way he acts -- and squirms.

"As much as I like you admiring me like that," he says, "I'd like it even more if you continued." Antonio hums and rubs the calloused pad of his thumb against the head of his prick, causing Ivan to gasp again, moaning obscenely. He stops making sounds when Antonio reaches down, wrapping a hand around his throat.

Underneath him, Ivan is tense; but he doesn't squeeze, and instead gently traces the outline of his jaw with his finger. Ivan relaxes; Antonio can feel him swallow under his palm.

"I see you're feeling," he pauses, looking for a word, " _experimental_."

"Maybe. Are you uncomfortable?"

"Not at all."

Antonio leans in, the tips of their noses brushing against each other, still lazily stroking Ivan's cock to keep him hard, and tightens his grip ever so slightly.

"What about now," he whispers, and it's less of a question and more of a dare; testing the waters. Ivan shakes his head and takes a deep breath through his nose. Antonio hums in thought and closes the gap between their mouths, teeth catching Ivan's lower lip hard enough to draw blood as his hand finally releases his shaft and travels down, fingers slick enough to slide into him with minimal effort. Ivan still grunts in discomfort and wiggles his hips, trying to get comfortable without sufficient lubricant. Antonio crooks his fingers to apologize and Ivan moans, rocking his hips again.

"You sound like a slut."

Ivan gasps and continues to move, ineffectively fucking himself on Antonio's fingers, and Toni is eager to pull them out, just to tease him. "Tell me how much you want it."

Ivan stops and clenches his jaw, unused to begging, prideful, but Toni is insistent. When he relaxes his grip and shifts away as a warning, Ivan wets his lips and squirms, battling with himself.

"Please," he says quietly, the word seemingly awkward and foreign-sounding from disuse.

"Please," Antonio says slowly, "what?" His grip tightens.

"Do I really-" he's interrupted by a small slap to his thigh that leaves a stinging red mark, causing him to yelp.

"That's not what I want to hear." Ivan whimpers. He starts again.

"Please," he bites his lip, "I need it. I'm desperate." Antonio's lips twitch upward without his consent into a small smirk.

"I know you are; it's good enough. I guess."

Ivan looks almost relieved to hear it, and when Antonio shifts to get between his legs, he spreads them eagerly, hips wiggling. Antonio only briefly removes his hand so he can line himself up and grip Ivan's hips to keep them still as he slides in with a groan, hips bucking involuntarily; Ivan bites one of his knuckles and shudders. The friction is borderline uncomfortable without lube, but the sounds Ivan makes and the way he feels is more than enough to make up for it. After settling in, Antonio wraps both of his hands around Ivan's throat and begins to thrust, starting out hard enough to slam the wire headboard against the wall. In the room next to them, something falls over and smashes against the floor; it's fine. That apartment was empty anyway.

He almost thinks he hears Ivan swear under his breath as he keeps up his pace, and when he comes the arch of Ivan's back is beautiful. Finally, he lets go of Ivan's neck to grip his thighs, fucking him into the mattress until he finishes himself, collapsing on top of his partner with a huff. Ivan purrs and wraps his arms around Toni's waist, nuzzling into his hair. Antonio lets him, for a few seconds, before he pulls out and rolls onto his side, not in the mood to be coddled. Ivan will have none of it.

As soon as his back is turned, Ivan wraps an arm around his torso and nestles his face into the space between Toni's shoulders. He wants to push him away, to yell that this was a one time thing, that they aren't an _item_ , but whatever; he'd let him have this, at least. He tells himself that it's because he doesn't want to deal with a pouty Ivan in the morning, but in truth, the warmth and the steady quiet of Ivan's breath against his spine is comforting in a way, and he finds himself being lulled to sleep with Ivan pressed flush against him.

It's a shame that it almost felt real. Maybe they could have had something.

**Author's Note:**

> i turned the story into a series!! that way you guys can skip over the super explicit parts if you'd like
> 
> also, kudos and comments fuel my godless soul


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